Foolish
by clair beaubien
Summary: Vin stands by Nettie's grave. Post-series.


A cold wind blew thin snow across the frozen ground of the cemetery. It whistled around the headstones and made the lonely land seem even lonelier. Chris stood at the corner of Josiah's church and watched the solitary man standing at the fresh grave.

Vin.

He wore the heavy wool jacket, gloves and knit muffler that had been Nettie's last gifts to him. She'd worked on them all summer and Vin never once thought or wondered or guessed they were for him. One day, as the temperature fell faster than the leaves off the trees, Nettie had simply handed them to him. No reason, no holiday, no ceremony, she'd simply placed them into his hands, kissed him on the cheek and sent him on his way.

Two mornings later, she didn't wake up.

Now Vin stood at the side of the mounded earth, hat in his hand, bareheaded to the sharp wind and biting grief. He'd been there nearly an hour. It was gonna be dark soon. Chris thought that was maybe long enough.

He walked into the cemetery and stood beside Vin. After a few minutes, Vin turned to him. He lifted his arm and indicated the heavy jacket.

"I'm feeling damn near civilized wearing these." He said, and he nearly laughed. Nearly.

"Civilized? You start talking like Ezra and I'm gonna have to shoot you."

"You can try, old man."

They were quiet again, both quiet, both looking at the freshly turned earth. Chris was too familiar with the feeling of standing at new graves, the hills of earth that in the elements of snow and rain and wind slowly evened out, until in a year or less the marker was the only sign that your life was buried as deep as your loved ones.

"Think she knew?" Vin asked, after a while. "She musta known, y'think? Givin' me these just 'fore – just –" He twisted his hat between his hands and shrugged. "Never knew how cold it was 'til she give me these, y'know? Just – I never knew."

Chris figured Vin had always known how cold it was, that he just never minded because there was nothing to be done. But he said,

"Yeah."

"Am I a fool?" Vin asked, after another few minutes.

"Oh, you're just gonna have to narrow that down for me." Chris said, automatically. It made Vin smile, but he didn't explain what he was talking about. He gestured to the grave.

"Think she's cold?"

"No, I think she's sitting on God's front porch with her rifle, offering to spell St. Peter from guard duty."

"Ha, yeah. I can see her doing that." Vin agreed. He shook his head. "I hate leaving her here like this. I hate thinking of her – just – just – I can't leave her."

Chris knew that feeling too.

"What do you think Nettie would say to that?" He asked.

Vin apparently didn't even have to think about it.

"She'd say, 'where d'you think these old bones are gonna go, boy? Get yourself someplace warm 'fore y'catch your death. I don't aim to have you come calling on me for a lotta years yet.'"

He laughed then and it ended on a sniff and he shook his head and looked away from the grave and out over the gray land and grayer clouds.

"Feels like I oughta just bury these duds with her. Like wearing 'em is just – just one more thing I don't deserve."

Chris let the words be carried away on the wind and then he moved closer.

"It ain't foolish to love somebody." He said to Vin. "Ain't foolish to love somebody who loves you. Sure ain't foolish to miss 'em. I'd sure rather be that kind of fool than one that doesn't feel a thing."

Vin squeezed his eyes shut. He nodded and sniffed and tugged his hat on.

"Reckon I better get inside 'fore Nettie comes back to drag me by m'ear."

"C'mon, I got coffee with your name on it. We'll come back tomorrow."

"Okay. Yeah. Okay." Vin took a step or two forward and bent down to rub a hand over one of the stones holding the wooden cross in place. He seemed about to say something, but then he didn't say anything. He patted the stone and stood up and walked with Chris to the boarding house.

The End.

A/N: I didn't realize how much I've missed the fellas! Writing this was like spending time with old friends. I've been working on my first real Western novel, I'm close to finishing it and I got wondering what was happening with these men. I think I'm going to have to write some more stories and really find out.


End file.
